The Prodigal Son Lives
by Serendipily
Summary: He never wanted to return to Stars Hollow in a casket.


* * *

Time of death 1:30 AM

* * *

They'd found a drunk driver behind the wheel of a banged up SUV.

"Thank you officer," Luke muttered letting the phone hit the cradle.

"At least we know this wasn't his fault," Liz offered weakly, running a hand through her frazzled blonde hair. She'd only gotten back to town at four in the morning.

He crossed his arms, scowling. "It probably was. "

"Luke."

"He probably wasn't paying attention. "

"It's not always his fault," Liz defended, her eyes welling up with tears.

Beat.

"Stupid kid," he snapped gruffly, not able to shake off the feeling.

Liz threw him the famous Dane's glare, before she burst into tears

Rory turned, not able to digest the scene. She stared at her red mug, coffee gone cold. The last time she saw him, he was leaving her dorm room, his heart, pumping vicious red, torn on his sleeve.

Lorelai stared worriedly, already pulling her out of her chair. "Luke, I'm gonna take her home. She needs sleep."

Luke nodded, one arm patting his sister's weeping shoulder ,while she wiping the smudges of mascara off her cheek.

* * *

The rumor mill came to a buzz. Every last detail soaked up. Some called it attempted suicide, those crazy enough to think it.

The buzz of conversation hidden away from Luke's Diner, only in the hush undertones of it when the conversation came into issue. When the funeral was brought up.

* * *

Taylor Doose had issued free cabbages that Tuesday, excusing it as replacing it with the two for one orange sale held every September.

* * *

Luke sighed, the tie hung limply around his neck. Lorelai kissed his cheek, the ends of fabric tangled in her hands.

"Want help?"

He nodded meekly, watching her weave the black tie in and out of its knot.

* * *

The march across the pavement was eerie enough. She downed the black like every else, moving towards the steps of the church, insisting she had to come.

He never gave her closure.

Rat bastard.

* * *

It was creepy.

She knew that Jess would never want an open casket funeral. His lifeless body set in somewhere so holy for all to gaze upon. She knew his last parting to the world would have been secluded with just himself

* * *

She finds herself alone. She's not running with the commotion to see what has happened to Kirk, and why the tree by the gazebo was setting on fire. Having the church burnt down would be a hate crime in the papers, wouldn't it? Besides, mischievous and dangerous even with his lifeless body lying with only her to see, in an empty church. (It was only fitting.)

He was a different kind of pale. A different kind of sickly thin. Their last confrontation, she'd turned her eyes away from the hallows in his cheek, and took her notice away from how his eyes sunk too much. His leather jacket almost swallowing him and how he looked like he hadn't had an actual meal in weeks.

Right now, he was all she wanted to look at.

But not like this.

She wanted Jess who would tease her about those ridiculous innuendos that would come out of her mouth. Jess who would teach her to play baseball with the hundreds he kept stowed away in the trunk of his car.

Sometime between then and forever trapped in a wooden box, death raped his body.

And now he was all pale skin and fading bruises.

* * *

It's impulsive

(it's insane)

It's crazy.

(Spur of the moment)

It's strange.

(It is what it is)

She doesn't think, only takes the cold face in her gloved hand. His eyes closed, etches of bruises damaging, paled.

She presses her lips to his cold ones

But she's not sure if she's totally insane. She's not sure at all.

"Bye Jess."

* * *

They filed back in, steps at a time, filing through to finish he service.

There were screams, ringing out past the church door, flying past the birds, scattered away from the burnt trees. Flamed to a crisp. Dead. It suited.

From the stain glass, the reflection of a writhing body, choking on his own blood, coloring the specks of rainbow.

He fell out of his casket with a thud, hitting the ground.

Rolled onto his back, they found the pulse, beating away, rapidly drowning the shock.

* * *

Even when she thought she had him all figured out, he goes and does something like this. Contorting the least reliable image she's stable with.

* * *

**A/N**: Review?


End file.
